Matters of faith and matters of fact

This is not a post to trash the faith(s) of others. This is not a way, whatsoever, to persuade anyone to think or feel any different than what they already do, about their personal beliefs. So, before this even begins, do keep that in mind.
For those whose faith has served them, be it a well serving or not, I want to say how happy I am that it has done so. It may also surprise you to know that I would probably be one of the first to congratulate you, in person, with the utmost sincerity, for your faith having done so. But, that is where it ends.
I will not try and create a big enough shit storm to cause a wailing unto me, from others, when speaking of why my faith in matters of religion are DOA.
Being Agnostic is: The perception that one cannot prove, OR DISPROVE, the existence of god.
Those of you in America who are reading this: Our constitution, and most of our founding fathers, were indeed Agnostic. It rakes my nerves to hear ignorant people say that god is in the constitution and/or that this country was founded on christian principles. I will say it, quickly: Neither of the those are correct. In fact, the pilgrims who came here did so because they were ready to pursue freedom from Great Brittain, where they faced religious persecution. That is the truth, and you can research for further truth all you want, but if your research involves a credible source, you will not find a further explanation of why anyone, other than possibly Christopher Columbus, ever came here and stole this land from the legitimate and genuine Native Americans.
Little by little, ever since the REAL principle of beginning a new nation became a reality, there are instances which are forever a black eye in the face of what freedoms are supposed to exist, here, the Salem Witch Trials being the very first example that comes to mind. If we want to look further, you can research with little effort and discover how the proactive pursuit and persecution of Jews, Catholics, Buddhists, Hindus (and thesedays, especially Muslims) have been a true embarassment to  amendment number one, of the constitution. It was wrong then, and it is wrong now.
There are those who go through life following the teachings of their faith, closely. For them, I am thankful. For them, and for plenty of you, you represent how it SHOULD be. But understand (and I think this is unfortunate) that you represent the minority. I wish that were not true, but it is.
I wouldn't be surprised if people have convinced themselves that I have no faith in religion because of what all I have written, in this blog, but people would only be partially correct. I grew up in a church, I put my faith in god from a very early age, I confessed by faith for baptism at age 12, and around that age is where the trouble began.
Before you can say something along the lines of, "Well, you should have had enough sense to look through the narrow minded comments of your congregation", and other possible things such as that, realize that THIS, unfortunately, is the MAJORITY (spoken or not) of opinion of people within a church and within christianity. Don't believe me? Go to a few churches, coast to coast, ask members at random how they feel about homosexuality, same sex marriage, and other matters which involve an open mind....but also involve a scripture stating, "Of all these commandments, the greatest is love". I know it's in Romans, but I will not bother looking up chapter and verse. You can do that, on your own. People simply do not seem to get what the teachings of jesus christ are truly about; They are about love, respect, charity (Yes, CHARITY), humility and forgiveness. Those seem to be the hardest things for people to follow. And yes, I am more than aware that many of you are already saying to yourselves, "This is why he died for our sins.".....You know what? Don't even give me that, because it does not take much to at least TRY and follow those teachings, which occured prior to crucifiction. It can be done, probably easier than a great deal within the bible. In fact, I think people break every rule within the ten commandments far more easily than they go against the teachings of jesus christ. I know that this is my opinion, but think about it for a bit.
As for having the faith of a mustard seed: As I said in the beginning of this post, I am glad that your faith has served you well. But as a matter of fact, the only thing a mustard seed has ever done for me is ensure that the taste of a hot dog would improve. But by all means, keep the faith if it works for you. Somehow, I will be just fine. I have made it this far. I will continue to do so.
Peace and love to all, from Paul

July, 1977: Innocence destroyed

I had an internal debate on whether or not to go here, but I am the one who said I will not waste my time with lies. If the truth is meant to set me free, then I need to continue telling it. I know that this is a dangerous form of 'Physician heal thyself', but I know me better than anyone ever will and I have helped myself, before and I am getting no younger.
This post will not be easy to read, but know that it was much more difficult for me to write.

It was July 1977, when my hell on earth began. I don't remember the exact day. Even if I did, it wouldn't matter. The typical day for me, back then, was waking up to have toast or pop tarts, watch The Gong Show, later, then go outside and begin doing what most kids did, in those days: Actually playing outside. Though I didn't have toys (my toys were records and a coloring book), I still played outside like every other kid. But, this day was different and it was the speck which became a bigger snowball, yeat after year, especially when I finally realized what my orientation was. It made coming to terms with my own truth more difficult than I can ever put to words, here or elsewhere. If you wonder why some kids do drugs and are looking for possible reasons other than peer pressure, here is one possibility:
On that day, in 1977, a group of 4 boys, 2 at a time, walked up to me, grabbed me by my arms, then picked me up by my legs, and put me on the ground, on my back. One had a red Polaroid camera with the strap around his wrist, and they were all laughing in a way I was not familiar with. I originally thought it was going to be a situation where I got the hell beat out of me with a few rubber pieces of Hot Wheels track, so I initially tried to laugh along with them. But, I had no idea how wrong I would become. Besides, I didn't see any of them holding pieces of track.
What was being said, I can't remember. All I can remember is the faint sound of my voice begging them to let me up and to let me go. What I got, instead, was 4 boys who continued the strange laughter while placing a foot on me, 3 of them taking a piss all over me, and the one holding that red Polaroid began taking photos of this incident.
For all I know, the whole thing may not have lasted longer than 2 or 3 minutes. But when you're a kid who is suddenly scared to death of being alive, those 2 or 3 minutes are your whole life flashing before your eyes and you never forget how the heat from the sun began to quickly dry the piss on your arms, part of your neck and face, and begins to cool on your clothing, compared to original body temperature.
You never forget that when those boys walked away, you were still screaming but all your neighbors were either at work or away from home, which is how these boys got away with what they did.
You never forget that by the time you stopped screaming, and a shred of fear began to let up, that first Polaroid photo you pulled off your shirt had tried to begin sticking to your shirt from the heat of the sun and from the chemicals within the photo as it developed and dried.
You never forget that the first thing you thought, after getting up, was to get rid of those photos in a way that only a 9 year old kid understands, but in a place where that kid is positive that no one would ever find them.
You never forget vomitting, right after running into the woods, because the smell of piss from 3 boys is beginning to heat up and, no matter how hard you run to the woods to bury those photos, you can't get rid of the smell.
You never forget how bad the new combination of vomit and piss smells, and you vomit again while poking holes through the photos with a tree limbs that keep breaking, and you have to keep getting new ones because you'll be god damned if your face stays in those photos.
You never forget picking up a rock to dig a hole because you're shaking so hard that you can't dig good enough with your hands (I am now shaking, and making lots of typos, having to backspace like crazy).
You never forget how hard you worked to slam other rocks on top of the newly dug photo grave, in the hopes that the rocks you picked, with moss all over them, will camouflage well enough with other limbs you sat around them, will look as if they had always been there.
You never forget taking your shirt off and wringing piss (and vomit) out of it, but you don't have a strong enough stomach to put it back on, as you thought would happen when you first had the idea to take it off and wring it out.
You never forget running down to the lake and taking the shirt in with you, just to get the piss and vomit out of it.
You never forget how you knew you would have to explain to your mother why you jumped in the lake with all your clothes on, in the first place.
You never forget that no matter how ridiculous your explanation is, your fear of being violated by those 4 boys again is worse than anything your mother could possibly do to you, and that includes her AND your father taking a belt to you (yes, it happened, both of them).
You never forget how you began to shake, every single time you thought about that incident, and do your best to forget it. But, no matter how hard you try, you can't forget it completely.
You never forget the faces of these boys doing what they did, the trails of piss hitting you, the splatter as it hit your clothes, the sick laughter, and photos landing on your clothing as you lay there, unable to get up, because 4 shoes with a foot in each have got you pinned to the ground and you're stuck there, helpless. No one can hear you, no one can get those boys off of you, and you wish you were dead.
This is the day I can't seem to shake, above all others in my life. Even with the passing of Jack, this is still more difficult and I will never understand why, except for the seemingly thin explanation (at least to me) that all possible innocence was lost, on that day, and I never truly recovered from it. If you were never violated or abused, you will never understand....I don't care how many stories like this you hear, or how harshly it may affect you. And by the way, this was not the only time I was violated. But, it WAS the only time that 4 were involved. After that, further violations almost seemed easy, though never acceptable.
And for the record: I have only seen one red Polaroid camera, as an adult. It stopped my normal day, dead. I shook as I walked, and eventually ran away. It erased enough progress of therapy that I ended up back on medication, after being off of it for more than 3 years. I was sick for days, afterwards. I hoped I would never see another one, and luckily have not. Don't expect that I will ever look for an image of one, on a search engine. It's not going to happen.
OK: I have now laid this filthy chapter of my life out for the world to see, and I am done with it. For now, I don't feel better. At this exact moment, I have a familiar feeling of being sick to my stomach that is almost haunting. But, I am now 43 years old and would fight to the death over the possibility of ever being violated again by anyone, anywhere, at anytime.
Carve this much in stone: If I ever see a child being violated, that will be the day I go to prison for murder and will only plead guilty of trying to save a child from a future of misplaced guilt, questions, blame, self-degradation and simply going out of his or her mind from the pain of not being able to fully put it behind him or her. As for adult child molesters, I would gladly kill them for a living. To me, child molesters are the lowest form of 'human' on earth who deserve nothing more or less than immediate death.
All parents: Listen to me, and do everything possible to become fully wise to the possibility that, no matter how hard you may try, the reality of your child being abused by another child is much more of a reality than you comprehend. Watch your children. Watch them closely. Observe the behavior, and call 'bullshit' on whatever it is they are hiding. Take it from someone who has been there, it could make all the difference in their world, for their sanity, and for some, their will to live to see the future.

Peace and love to all, from Paul.

With liberty and screw you all

A business should not be allowed to have an advantage over customers where the business can refuse to give a refund, on services not rendered, and hide behind Chapter 11. But, that is exactly what happened to me, today.
I purchased a tombstone from a company with a great reputation, a great introduction and attention to detail from the owner, who spent hours with me on this tombstone. This owner also took a check from me and deposited the check within less than a week of receiving it.
A few months later, I discovered that Jack's sisters had gone behind my back and placed their own tombstone on his grave, as mentioned in an earlier post.
Within a short time, my father passed away and took precedence over everything else in my life, obviously. Shortly after my father's funeral, a batch of tornadoes hit the area where my mother lives, which is where I was staying and I stayed there for close to 2 months. Her mental and physical repair, what little I could help to improve, indeed took precedence over everything else in my life. So, contacting the business owner regarding a refund on this tombstone was placed on the back burner.
I finally returned to Knoxville, last month. I contacted the business owner to let him know that I MUST have a refund on the tombstone. He then stated that he currently did not have the money, but to please give him about 3 weeks to earn it and the money would be refunded. It's not that I trusted the man or not. It's that I figured surely, something could have been done if he did not refund it.
I called him this morning, to let him know that I must have the money by tomorrow (July 13), or I would be in a bad situation. He returned my call this afternoon to let me know that he not only didn't have the money to refund me, but did not know when he would have it.
With that, I quickly went to a website which hosts his, and placed a well-deserved negative review. The review included that this business owner would be filing Chapter 11 bankruptcy. Within 5 minutes of posting the review, I received a call from the business owner stating that since I gave the bad review, he could never attempt to refund the money (More than $1000).
It's quite interesting that it took him close to half a day to return my call from this morning, when it was merely one on one, but took 5 minutes to call back upon me taking my case to the internet and to the public at large.
I don't care where you stand, politically, don't care what god you worship (or not), nor do I care if you own a business or not. The unfair advantage which a business has (as proven here), which can be used to screw a customer out of more than $1000 (which is now the case as of today) is tantamount to theft and that is that.
It's not enough that I can't receive a refund for services not rendered; It also had to include, at least in my case, that I am disabled, widowed, broke and without a permanent address from having to walk away from my home (also discussed in a previous post).
If you think that what is happening as a result of me having to walk away from my home is karma, here's an immediate response to your thought: Fuck you: Repeatedly, fuck you.
YOU live in my mind and body, attempt to walk in my shoes, attempt to pay my bills, keep food in this tiny room, gas in my vehicle (and insurance on said vehicle), along with retaining the common sense and responsibility of an adult, THEN get screwed over to the tune of more than $1000 by a company who can slide on through Chapter 11 and recover with no troubles. This is not, by a longshot, the only business I have heard of who has screwed people over and come out the other side without a scratch on their conscience.
I am more than aware of how unfair life can be. I am certainly not a poster child on how unfair life can be. But, I believe I have endured more than enough, even before now, to qualify as someone who has been repeated given a fucking by life that I have had enough of the unfair advantages by people who either hide behind their money, or with unfair law advantages on their side, and screw the public to the tune of a profit.
This is supposed to be a country of opportunity for people to succeed, according to good practice and common sense, not by means of literally stealing from customers and using it for profit, at a later time.
I have no sympathy for people who do this. I hope for a quick karma to people such as this man.

Here is the link to his business: http://monumentsbydesign.vpweb.com/

This is exactly how I feel:

And this is what should happen to people who screw customers out of money:

Combing hairs of abstraction

Have you ever walked the outskirts of your mind, just because you could?

Ever float above your body just to see what you really look like, or for any or no reason?

What about when you were in the darkest place of your personal history?

Did you see or do something that you were unaware of, at the time, but now are?

If so, does it now bother you? Do you lose sleep over it? Do you question what it meant, if anything?

How about indifference? If applicable, just how generic was that indifference? Should you wonder whether or not it could be harmful?

About those acutely abstract thoughts you try and deal with, yet end up going nowhere with them: How soon before they begin to leave you feeling emotionally exhausted?

Am I striking a nerve? Have I come too close to that uncomfortable place inside you?

I wont ask, you don't have to tell, but we certainly do keep it all squelched deep within the roots, don't you silently agree?

Sick feeling in the pit of my stomach

Before this even begins: I have been up all night, no sleep. Some people who end up in this perdicament read books or watch movies. If I'm not listening to music (Slight headache for now, so no music), I am a chronic thinker. I have been guilty of it my entire life. The overprocess of thoughts in my head is probably more important than music and I truly did not think I would ever admit that to anyone.
Another important thing: This post is NOT political. There are some statements which could be taken as such, but the spirit of them are not meant that way. If you take them as political, you will take it the wrong way and should either skip over this post, or stop when you feel it is political, then come back and read the rest after giving it some thought. On with the post.....

I will readily admit that throughout this blog, I have had many complaints about my past and present life in general. I am going to take a detour from what is the norm on here, and put the spotlight on something which has had my attention for several years, but has not come to the forefront until the past year or so.
If there is one thing in the United States today that makes me sick, it's the growing number of homeless families. Most of these people did not pre-determine their futures, as several media outlets are claiming (and that includes plenty of loud mouthed pundits). Most of these people lost their jobs, their businesses, had to live off their savings account and/or 401k, and that is never enough to see someone through. From there, they technically ended up on the street.
From there, these otherwise hard working parents were forced to turn their vehicles into sleeping quarters. I know a little about that, as mentioned in the very first post of this blog.
If these parents are lucky, they find enough part time work to put a down payment on a motel room which they would normally never step foot in, and it becomes their home. Right now, I know a little about that as well. The place I am currently in is not a motel or a hotel, per se`, but is built like one.
This room I have been in, since March 22nd, is about 15 feet by 12 feet which includes the partial kitchenette and bathroom. There is no real closet; Just a 4 inch by 6 inch divider along the wall, beside my bed, with a 24 inch hanger/shelf device that looks like it was bought wholesale from the cheapest distributer of these types of goods.
But you know, I am lucky as hell. I don't have to worry about how my wife/significant other and children are going to handle an adjustment that was never before considered. I don't have to tell my children they will have to occasionally do without what should normally be everyday things, that they may have to live off generic boxes of macaroni and cheese or ramen noodles, etc.
People, this is happening at an astounding and unacceptable rate. Do you not wonder what is happening with all those empty houses? Have you considered that people who cook meth are probably going from one house to another, cooking one night (or day) at one house, then leaving for another house in another town the next?
If there is one thing which should have never again become an epidemic in this country, it's homelessness (History saw enough of this during the depression era). Furthermore, plenty of them are veterans of recent and previous wars. Seeing that they sacrificed their lives for us, this is not what they deserve. I am NOT saying "Oh, let's hand out deeds to homes and set up a nationwide comune just for them". That's not what I'm saying at all. I AM saying that if these people, along with other hard working families, lost everything through no fault of their own and actually through vile, greedy white collar criminals who should be rotting in prison but are instead jetting off to who the fuck knows where, then don't they deserve some type of do-over? Can something NOT be worked out, ever?
When entire families with YOUNG children end up in run down motels in unsavory parts of town, and these kids begin losing sleep night after night, doing worse in school day by day.....can we not do something about this? Isn't there SOMETHING we can do to help these people?
We are still the richest country on earth, don't let anyone tell you different. If anyone reading this thinks otherwise, I'm here to tell you straight up: BULLSHIT. Do NOT tell me that this country is bankrupt. There are quite a number of ways to turn things around, when it comes to the economy.
Truly, this entire subject makes me sick and I'm talking way down in the pit of my stomach.
Here I am, in my tiny but workable room, in a VERY safe part of town (One of the safest, if we're talking about an area not part of a gated community), on the second floor with the elevator maybe 15 steps away from my door, I can see my vehicle from my window, etc. In my heart of hearts, I know how much better I really do have it, even if we're talking about the quality of the room alone, than many of these families.
If giving a complete damn about people I don't know makes me a liberal, then I guess I'm a liberal who also firmly believes in the death penalty, firmly believes in the right to own a gun (I happen to have one about 8 feet away from me, in fact), believes that street justice is sometimes the only justice, and firmly believes that any child molester, male OR female, should be shot and killed by one of the parents or the next of kin.
Bottom line: If we as a people don't begin to rally around these families, we should not dare to be surprised when some of these parents become desparate enough about feeding their children that they rob, steal, even kill to do it. And think about that for a minute.....If it were your children, how far would YOU go to make sure they don't go without? Didn't take you long to think about it, right?
For the record: I am eligible for food stamps but don't have them, eligible for section 8 housing but don't receive it, probably eligible for electric and water bill assistance but don't receive it, and that's because I know for a fact there are people who need that help far more than I do. THEY should get it first. I am single with no children, so I can wait. In fact, I SHOULD wait.
I may be down to counting change, but my disability check will electronically deposit tomorrow. I have health insurance, though state sponsored (Hey...I paid in my taxes just the same as you. I earned this shit). I may not be able to afford groceries right now, but I have 9 full meals in the freezer. I probably have what is needed to make at least 4 more, from there...possibly more if I weren't so tired and could think a little further. I have more than enough coffee. I have close to a half tank of gas in my vehicle. All of my nice clothes are clean. I still have enough medication (for now). I am using a brand new notebook computer. I have a brand new printer (Don't judge about the new tech items and me counting change. YOU sit in this room before you judge.). I have about 30 CDs and my portable CD player is hooked up through a nice set of Panasonic computer speakers (old school 80s stuff, no cheap surround sound effect on these). My cell phone is paid for the month and I have a huge stack of photos of Jack and my family. Moreover, my estate is safe and guarded by not only a 24 hour monitoring system (saw the whole thing working when I signed up the lease) but also with the owner living on the property, and the entire property is surrounded by 15 feet tall fencing with looped razor wire along the top. I pay dearly for that storage unit, but the estate is well worth it.
So all in all, I'm in damn good shape for a widow who is broke as hell. However, that does not change perdicaments of all the homeless families I mentioned. I have a HUGE guilty chip on my shoulder, when it comes to them. Often, I have thought about trying to find a family and at least feed them...because honestly, there is no real room for comfortable sleep in here unless someone is sleeping with me, and I have a strict rule about my that: If you're not my significant other, you're NOT sleeping in my bed.
Please, take the time to watch the video I have included on here. If you are not genuinly moved by what you see, I can't help but wonder if you have a bigger mental problem than me.
Thank you for taking the time to read what I find to be a bother, and wish I could do something to help them all. I wish all of you good life, good health, and may you never end up without a home. But remember one thing: It CAN happen to you, I don't care how well prepared you think you are. You are capable of losing everything. Don't think you're not.
Peace and love to all.

Pride Day, Fathers Day, Summer Of Loathe

I am now beyond the 6 month mark of what is supposed to be the second part of my life. Honestly, I have no idea where to begin except to continue with this blog. It is one of the few things which truly keeps me grounded and helps me to concentrate on something positive....and right now, that focal point is extremely difficult. I have quite a bit of hate built up in me from what all has taken place over the past 4 years. I will get to that a little later in the post.

Today is Pride Day, in Knoxville. I have no intention of going, though I had thought about it during the week. Several who know me might say that I still have a problem with who and what I am. If that's the case, those several need to learn about me a little better. I've been quite comfortable in my skin, since I came out....but I came out in my own way, and I'm not in any way a textbook example of anything.

How I feel about Pride Day, in general: If it's true that we were 'born this way', what exactly is it that I'm supposed to celebrate for only one day? If others want to throw a parade for themselves, more power to them. I, personally, don't need one to justify and embrace who and/or what I am, or what I may be in the future. I don't look down on those who participate in one, but we don't seem to agree on much of anything in the first place. As I have previously stated....I don't like bars, I don't cruise parks, I really don't care for stage plays or musicals, my favorite songs are NOT show tunes, my favorite artist is NOT Lady Gaga, I don't follow trends, I don't like being gawked upon as if I'm a piece of meat in a butcher shop and I definitely didn't get the memo on what is butch/fem, nor do I give a shit.

What I think Pride Day is really about, under the surface of it all, is repeating the march which occured after the Stonewall Riot (New York City, June, 1969). If I'm wrong, go ahead and correct me. I don't think I am, but the invitation to set me straight without debate is open.

Today is also Fathers Day. This may sound cold, but I'm glad that my father isn't here to suffer any longer in a nursing home (especially the first one he was in), to see how selfish people are getting to be, and how the country that he fought for and worked 32 years to help sustain with military security is fading away. He went through enough as a child; His father abandoned him, his sister, and his pregnant mother who had relocated to a shipyard in Brunswick, Georgia, to make a better living for herself and her children. Dad was 11 years old when this happened. His mother had no choice but to work long enough to pay for bus tickets back to Gadsden, Alabama (only an hour away from their hometown), then had to stay there and work a little longer to pay for bus tickets back to Guntersville. They were in Gadsden long enough that my father and his sister were temporarily enrolled in a school, down there. This took place in the mid 1940s.

People seem to think that the Great Depression ended somewhere close to the mid 30s, and this should serve as proof of how false that thought is. Some families struggled from the wrath of the depression all the way into the late 50s and early 60s. Jack's family was a prime example of ones who struggled much longer than average.

As for the hate I have got built up in me: See if you would feel any better if these barnacles were stuck to your plate.....August, 2007, dad went into a nursing home. August, 2009, I found mine & Jack's room mate in her bed, dead. She was only 49 years old. September, 2010, Jack went into the hospital. November, 2010, one of my best friends (Ruth Anne Lankster) passed away from kidney damage. She was only 44. December, Jack passed away. January, an uncle passed away. March, I had to vacate my home and give my dog away. April, dad passed away and within a week, tornadoes hit the southeastern states. I was in Alabama for close enough to 2 months.

I am tired, I am upset, and I am thouroughly pissed, though I do my best to keep a positive attitude. But, I hate the so-called quality of life which has been dumped in my lap. I hate the way I feel, most of the time. I hate that I feel this way at all. I hate that the place I have called home for more than 12 years no longer feels like home to me....and after being gone from my hometown for more than 16 years, it still does not feel like home either.

I hate Jack's 2 sisters for going behind my back and putting a tombstone on his grave which does not contain both of our names on it (Cheapest piece of shit tombstone they could locate). I hate that I want to drive over to the sister's house, who lives in Knoxville, and burn her fucking house to the ground. I hate that I want to gather up their mother's recipes, burn them to a crisp and mail her the ashes. That same hate goes for a set of clear glass serveware, only I want to mail it to her so busted up that it's back to sand. This serveware is so old that you can see tiny bubbles in the glass. There are other things I could destroy and mail the results of to her, but in the end, I don't want to hear shit from her, or the one that lives elsewhere.

I hate that my stomach cawls at what Jack's words were on the possibility of anyone going behind my back or his, and defying his burial wishes....I was instructed, in the event of defiance of his burial wishes, to dig up his urn and transfer it to MY family's graveyard (which is now severed). I hate that I don't have it in me to go and follow through with his wish. I mostly hate that after more than 16 years, his family still decided among themselves that I don't deserve being given any trust. I hate them, period. May they all freebase methane from a fresh cow queef, as far as I'm concerned.

Indeed, there is too much hate in the world. I should probably be ashamed for harboring this much hate, but I'm not. I feel like a dog that has been repeatedly smacked in the nose with a Sears and Roebuck catalog, blood has run down my face until I can taste it, and all I want to do is attack. I don't like feeling this way, at all. But, I especially don't like being shit on by others who say one thing at a funeral, and do plenty behind my back to make it where I never want to go around them ever again. I have no doubt that this was their plan, all along, but that doesn't make dealing with it any easier.

So here I sit in this tiny room with weekly rates, all of my estate in storage, miniscule money to my name, a vehicle that needs repair before leaving the state, and a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. Sue me if you would feel any other way, or react differently, given the above matters of the black heart. I just can't come to terms with this, yet.

Yes, this is my Summer Of Loathe and I hate it. But, at least I told you the truth.

(*Update: I was unaware that Knoxville Pride was postponed until June 26. Not sure why. Still not going.)

RIP, Dad! Happy Fathers Day! Love you!

Jack, this photo is beyond awesome. Love you and miss you!!!!

Summer Of Loathe....

Year 43, Day 1

For those who aren't aware, today is my birthday. I am 43, but it may as well be 100.
For the record, I stopped celebrating it a very long time ago. Many things in my life are dear to me, important enough to celebrate, and important enough to bring attention to, repeatedly....but, my birthday is not one of those things. It just isn't.

Today's events, in order:

Woke up around 7:30 AM with my nose completely stopped up
3 oversized mugs of coffee, and my nose began to clear
Avoided the news, because I don't want to hear about who said what about whom, or what promises have been broken, let alone hear anymore 'what we need' speeches from anyone, Republican or Democrat. Enough, already....and that hasn't even begun, yet.
Watched a few old programs
Got a shower, got dressed, took off to visit a few people only to find that one is taking care of someone who is waiting for a room in hospice care...and another who is so sick that he was afraid to let me in (did not sound good). Another is out of town, another has a neighbor's tree sitting on her roof and was fighting with her insurance company.
After the last one, I decided to let the attempts at visiting go (for now), and took a trip to my favorite grocery store. After seeing what all I had put in my cart, and it suddenly dawning on me that I was no longer buying goodies for 2 (Jack and I), I began putting things back and began having to fight off an anxiety attack....and this fight was one of the toughest I have ever endured.
I'm not sure how I made it through the checkout stand without having an anxiety attack, but the tears were inevitable. They were further inevitable on my drive back to my room, where I now am.
Since I have been back here, a headache has begun. I hope this one will not require medication, but it wants to become heavy.

I guess the heavy headache is directly connected to me suddenly carrying a very heavy heart.
I did not go to the liquor store, and I have not taken any extra medication (yet). I want to see if I can make it through the rest of the day without either/or.
Perhaps that is the present I should give myself, even if it requires laying down and sleeping the rest of the day away.
Time will tell, as it always does.
Happy Birthday to me.....